The Favor
by Winter Ashby
Summary: Elle commented, casually, like she wasn't asking for the most humiliating thing in the world. [Noah & Elle] ish Elle asks for a favor from Claire.


**Title:** The Favor  
**Author:** Winter Ashby _(rosweldrmr)_  
**Disclaimer:** Heroes © Tim Kring**  
Rating: **M _(for language)_**  
Summary: **Elle commented, casually, like she wasn't asking for the most humiliating thing in the world. (Elle & Noah) Elle asks for a favor from Claire.  
**Timeline**: Post Season 2  
**Authors Notes: **I've been working on this for a while. Ever since I watched the series. I find Elle fascinating, and therefore am obsessed with her. Take that, and the AWESOME - EPIC WIN - that is NOAH, and it makes for a kickass pairing. I thought the idea of Claire's blood 'healing' Elle mind was interesting, and a possible crush on Noah, and this made for a funny conversation, in my head. I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know. (First Heroes fic.)** Why isn't there an Elle character filter??  
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"What d'you think you're doing here?" Claire was holding her fathers gun, old school, piece of shit revolver. Wood handle, auburn-red, stained like blood against her white palms. The metal shaft was a dull, corroded black.

Elle followed the track of the tip trace over her heart and wondered how many people Noah had killed with that gun.

"Chill out, blondie. I'm not gonna hurt you." She smiled, sweet and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Not like it'd matter anyway. But Noah gave me specific instructions." Her arm was still in the sling, the itchy fabric of the hostler was digging into her neck, making her want to forget that she _promised_ him not to hurt his family.

"My dad would never let you come near me!" Claire's hands shook as she traced Elle's movement into the living room with the gun.

"Put that away." Claire didn't seem to be listening. "Look, I made a promise. And as much fun as I would have seeing how much I can zap you and watch you regenerate," here she smiled slow and wicked, exposing the whites of the tips of her teeth, "I _can't_. I swore. Besides, I need a favor."

"A favor?" she blanched.

"Yes." Elle straightened out after she'd once-over-ed the place and waited. She stood, somewhat out-of-place in the middle of the Bennett's suburban living room, surrounded by beige couches and paisley rugs. She thought, Noah probably felt out of place too, in his own home. He was too 'kill-you-now' to ever really appreciate things like yapping Pomeranians and Cheerleaders.

"And you think I'm going to help you because…"

"Because Nathan Petrelli is probably dead, so Noah is the only father you've got left."

She felt the punch to the gut before she saw it. "Don't ever speak about him like that."

"Why do you care anyway?" Elle choked out the response, good arm wrapped around her middle, coughing up saliva and a lung – just for good measure. "Noah died for you. He asked someone else to shoot him, erased his own memories and still went chasing after you, even though he _knew_ that he was going to die. He saw those paintings months ago, and he knew, better than anyone, that Isaac's never wrong. He killed for you, to protect you. What did the boy wonder ever do but knock-up the firestarter?" she surprised herself a little with the logical progression of thought that laced her statement.

"Why are you here, Elle? What do you want from me?" Her eyes caved in, like the lights in the room went out. Like maybe, if there was electricity in her too, Elle had just taken it from her. She was strangely uncomfortable with that feeling.

"Look, your Dad made a deal to keep you all safe. Right? He comes back to the Company, and you don't expose us. Because, now you know how far they'll go to keep this a secret." There was a crackle in her fingertips, a rebellion against hiding, against denying what she was. Against all of it. "Noah asked to be my partner."

Claire looked up, like she'd been somewhere else just then, miles away, years ago. Time-traveling in her own memories of ice cream and puppies, sunny days and first kisses. "Why would he trust you?"

"Because he knows I'm one of the good guys, which is why he told me to come see you."

"I don't believe you! My father would never ask you to come near his family."

"He would if he was trying to protect it. How many people do you think he's killed to protect you? How many more do you think he'll kill for you, Claire?" The crackle in her fingertips erupted. The twinge of the skin at the release point, the hair of her hands stood on end, following the electric charge over the surface of her skin.

Then, as quickly as the spark was there, it was gone. Reabsorbed, called back into flesh and bone by willpower alone. And the image of his face as he warned, threatened, Elle what he'd do to her if she hurt his family, his _Claire_. Elle was getting better at controlling it, at controlling her mind, her urges.

"So, what do you need from me?"

"You're blood." Elle commented, casually, like she wasn't asking for the most humiliating thing in the world. "For my arm. I can't really help Noah like this. I'm vulnerable, which means he's vulnerable."

"That's it? Just my blood."

Elle pulled the sleeve of her bag around her good shoulder, and pulled a syringe from the outer-front pocket. "That's it. Just some plasma and red cells. No biggie." She shrugged and ignored the pain of the action.

Claire still watched her, cautiously, like she was waiting for a cat to jump out of her chest any second. Or perhaps, just a lightning bolt.

"Man, you've got some serious trust issues."

Claire sneered and took the needle. "How much?"

Elle procured a pouch from her bag and handed it over. "Fill 'er up. And don't skimp. I want some of the good stuff." She pointed to her own heart and gave Claire one of her pouting looks.

"Fine." She sighed and sunk onto the couch. "But don't think for second that I believe this is about your arm."

For her part, Elle tried not to look shocked. She really did. But it appeared that she'd underestimated the Cheerleader. After all, she had lived with Noah practically all her life. Maybe she was smarter than Elle first thought. "Will it work?"

"Should." Claire grimaced as the plunged the needle into her sternum. She replied like she knew exactly what Elle was hoping to fix. After all, who could trust her when she was broken, brain on the fritz, fried by daddy-dearest.

"Will he trust me?" Elle asked, curling a lock of her hair around her finger.

"Probably not."

"Would you mind if I fucked him?" Elle inquired, easily, like she was asking to borrow a pencil.

"Gross!" Calire's eyes shot open, as the bag started to fill.

"What? You can't tell me you haven't noticed." She gazed off to the far right; somewhere miles beyond suburbia, somewhere Claire couldn't follow. "He has nice hands, don't you think?"

"I don't know, he's my dad."

"Not your _real_ dad." She replied without even considering it might make her angry.

"You really want to… be normal?" Claire asked, pulling the needle out. Elle hadn't even noticed the bag had filled. She tended to get distracted when she thought of Noah.

"I wanna help, but I'm…" she paused, searching for the right word. "Unstable." She smiled and scratched where the bandaged met her inner elbow.

"And you want my Dad to trust you?" Claire handed the bag back to her, with a strange expression. Something like disbelief and disgust.

"Yes." She didn't even hesitate.

"Fine, then. Take it and get out. And I swear to god, if you hurt him…"

"Oh, you Bennett's and your _threats_." Elle laughed and tucked the blood into her bag. "Seriously, though. Would you mind if I fucked him? I've been dying to know what it's like."

"Get out." Claire didn't bother to look up before she turned her back, a sign that Elle took to mean she was at least trusted not to send a bolt of lightning cursing through her heart, just to see how much she could take. If her head exploded, would she survive?

Quickly, before Elle could contemplate the fascination of trying out her theory, she gathered her pride, and tethered obsession with Noah and scrambled for the door. "I'll take good care of him." She called over her shoulder as she left the house. Elle wasn't sure if Claire really thought she wanted to sleep with Noah, or she was just doing it to bug her. Not that it really mattered. It was just an extra bonus that the idea of Elle wrapped around Noah, running her nails down his chest freaked Claire out.


End file.
